The Way to a Girl's Heart
by Aownr1669
Summary: Finding her changed his life.  Now Daryl has found a way to make her happy...a simple thing that brings a smile to both their faces.
1. Chapter 1

_One-Shot, if you will. Reviews would be appreciated but be kind-this is the first time at writing fiction. _

_I don't own Daryl Dixon or any of the Walking Dead characters, or any of the other trade-marked treats mentioned, but if I did, this is what would happen..._

_Rated M for implied smut and a couple cuss words...and everything else I imagine when I think of a certain cross-bow-wielding redneck.  
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She knocked softly at the heavy wooden door of the small office which now served as his bedroom. Daryl Dixon's Man Cave, as she had teased him once. Damn it. He had better be here, she thought. She noticed he ate dinner more quickly than usual tonight. He stood up abruptly, kissed her softly on the top of the head and whispered "Meet me in my room in a' hour. Gotta' a surprise I think you're gonna' like." As he walked quickly out the door of the dining hall in the old Scout camp that was now their home, he looked at Rick and pointed his finger. The dark-haired man nodded, glancing in her direction, and then returned to his plate.

Turning the brass knob, she pushed it open gently. "Daryl?" No answer. She cautiously pushed the door open a few inches further, just enough to see into the room a bit. It was dark-only a faint, wavering light coming from a source behind the door. There was a large mattress against the wall, neatly covered in a down sleeping bag, with two pillows at one end. She could make out the square work table at the foot of the mattress, his duffle bag on top, it's contents invisible. In the dim light, she could make out a few items on the table-cleaning solvent, dirty rags, large hunting knife, a handful of arrows, their sharp steel points gleaming, a canteen, a coil of rope and what appeared to be an unopened bottle of Southern Comfort, it distinctive shape and label easily recognizable in the flickering light. A large crossbow leaned against the table. She knew now he was in the room for certain.

"Daryl." she said again, this time a bit more firmly, without the question in her voice. She pushed the door open further and as it swung back into the room, she could see him. Her heart skipped a beat. He was sitting in the middle of the room, on top of an old comforter he had scavenged from one of their group's many forays into the outlying subdivisions within driving distance of their new camp. A small folding camp table was at the edge of the blanket, a squat white candle on top of the table was responsible for flickering light that bathed the immediate area in a soft glow.

He sat motionless on the blanket, cross-legged, watching her enter the room and pull the door shut behind her with a soft clunk. She stopped to let her eyes adjust to the dim light. He slowly cocked his head sideways and his lips curled into a slight grin, one corner of his mouth drawing up. "I knew you'd come." he smiled. The light from the candle made his skin glow and his crystal blue eyes twinkled even more than usual. Every time she looked at him she fell in love with him all over again. How could she not love him-he was the only reason she was alive.

"Ok, why do I feel like you're a spider and I'm the fly?" She looked at him and took a small step further into the room.

"Door ain't locked." he stared at her, knowing full well she wasn't going anywhere, his eyes never leaving her face, never blinking.

"Why are you smirking at me? What's this big surprise? What am I going to like?" She put her hands on her hips.

Daryl looked down to his hand in the darkness of his lap and grinned even wider. He slowly raised his hand, revealing it's contents. He looked into her eyes again. He didn't want to miss any of it-the recognition of what he'd found, the look on her face when she realized he'd heard them giggling like schoolgirls over what they missed most since the outbreak . He especially wanted to see her face when it dawned on her that he was now in possession of the one simple thing she'd mentioned when it was her turn.

After he'd carried her nearly lifeless body back to camp, she slept for four days straight. He was sitting on the floor beside the bed when she finally opened her eyes. He hadn't moved the whole time she slept and he knew he looked as rough as he felt. He remembered how she had looked straight at him, no fear or mistrust, and smiled, a single tear running down the side of her bruised cheek. In the weeks that followed, he came to realize quickly that her face, especially her eyes, was her "tell." She was an open book, he could tell exactly what she was feeling and thinking. All he had to do was look into her face. All he ever wanted to do was look at her.

Her heart skipped another beat. Dear Lord, do not let him know what I'm thinking, she thought to herself. Her eyes, until now locked with his, squinted and looked at his hand. She could make out a familiar dark brown rectangle with faint block lettering on the wrapper. As he continued to raise his hand towards her, her eyes opened wide. "Bingo" he thought to himself. The realization of what was holding set in with her. A Hershey bar. A God-damned Hershey Bar! It had been months since she'd had any chocolate and her mouth began to water uncontrollably.

Daryl slowly waggled the bar and said "Want some? Now? Do you want it?" emphasizing the "want" slowly and dramatically, drawing out the vowel sounds and making the "now" almost two syllables. His face was beaming but when she looked at his eyes, they smoldered, the flame from the candle reflected in the deep, clear blue.

He watched her bite her lower lip as she stared at him, her eyes wide. He had finally admitted to himself weeks ago that he was in love with her. He was sure her feelings for him mirrored his own, but he had made a promise to himself that after what she'd been through, he would go slow, letting her come to him. With each passing day they spent together, it became more difficult. She was the first thing he thought of when he woke up in the morning and the last thought when he closed his eye at night. In between, there were the dreams of her.

She took two small steps toward the blanket. "You. Heard. Us." she whispered, pausing between each words. "You were spying. You rat bastard! You heard everything!"

"Yep" he said matter-of-factly, looking at the bar in his hand. "I heard it all. Kinda' hard NOT to hear you wommen' cackling and cutting' up. " He dropped his hand, letting the prized possession fall to the blanket softly. "But if you really don't want this, I reckon I could find somebody else who'd be in-ter-es-ted." he said, exaggerating the last word into four slow syllables, taking full advantage of the drawl she once told him she thought was so sexy.

"NO!" she said loudly, before she could catch herself. Crap, she thought, he knows and now he's gonna' hold this over me. "Don't be thick, Darryl. You know I do. You obviously heard-."

"Oh, what was the phrase?" He interrupted her, leaning forward, "Sump'thin' about 'sexual favors for the first guy to bring you chocolate?' Wasn't that it?" he said, his voice low and rough. He was thoroughly enjoying this.

She blushed uncontrollably, her red cheeks visible even in the dim candlelight. She knew he heard but she didn't for a minute think he would hold her to it, not Darryl. There had been so many times they were together and he could have taken advantage, made his move. They had even talked about it once. Their physical relationship never progressed beyond the occasional kiss at this point.

"So let's hear it." she said, her voice waivering slightly. "What are you expecting? You think I'm going to sleep with you for a candy bar? Is that it?" She took a step closer to him, trying to appear bold and sure of herself-hoping that he didn't have a clue that lately her feelings had become much clearer to her-lately it wouldn't have taken anything much more from him than a look, a touch, a word for her to be his.

She was close enough now to notice his scent. She breathed in deeply, willing herself not to close her eyes and reach for him. Daryl smelled like no other man she'd ever met, a heady combination of leather, motor oil and cigarettes, wood smoke and occasionally whiskey. It was the smell that comforted her the most, helped her sleep, calmed her fears. Tonight, though, was not his usual scent-this was a clean smell, light, like…soap. She looked at his brown hair, the way it was softer, lighter, the way it moved when he did, the candle making the lighter brown highlights around his face visible even in the dark. The usual stubble on his cheeks was gone. Shave and a shower. He'd disappeared after dinner so quickly-this was what he was up to. He cleaned up for this!

He stood up slowly, rising to his knees, leaning towards her. He was close now. He reached out to her and wrapped his fingers gently around her wrist, pulling her closer. His fingers felt hot on her skin. She was sure he could read her thoughts, positive he could feel her pulse racing as he held her wrist. He pulled down slowly on her wrist as he reached his other hand out and up to her elbow as she kneeled in front of him on the blanket. He took her hands in his and looked down into her eyes.

Daryl didn't know how long he could look at her without losing himself. She was wearing a deep green t-shirt that made her own green eyes even more striking. He loved her eyes, the way they seemed to change hues with her mood, the flecks of blue and gold in the iris, the long dark lashes. He ran a hand down her hair, tangling his fingers in the loose curls. Daryl never missed an opportunity to touch her hair-it was the first thing he had noticed about her in that jail cell, locked way, caged like an animal, beaten and battered. Tonight, her dark red hair spilled over her shoulders front and back, its curls cascading like a waterfall. Thick, dark auburn, almost chestnut brown, but when the sun hit it, it looked like tiny strands of copper wire ran all though the curls. It was long-dangerously long. Too easy for a walker to grab on to and then he'd lose her forever. He warned her about keeping it up, a warning she heeded unless they were together. After dinner, when they'd talk together, just two of them in the safety of his room, she'd take it down, letting it tumble down her back to her waist. He raised a handful and breathed in.

On their last trip to town, the jackpot find of a closet chock-full of what he teasingly called "girly stuff," in addition to an unopened 12-pack of Hershey bars, had apparently brought Daryl only more unintended torture. The house must have belonged to a horder, he joked, or, "one of them ex-treme coupon-ers." Stuff was stored everywhere-canned goods, cereal, dried pasta, cleaning supplies, in every cabinet, drawer, under every bed. The men made several trips, loaded for bare each time. He had separated out the "girl stuff" he thought smelled the best-honey-almond shampoo and conditioner and something called "warm vanilla sugar " body scrub and lotion. He had given them to her wrapped in a brown bag with a small scrap of blue ribbon he'd found. She cried she was so touched by his kindness, but she squirreled them away, saying she they were too special-she would save them for "the perfect occasion."

Tonight at dinner, when Daryl sat down next to her, he immediately noticed the extra shine of her hair and how she smelled-sweet and warm. Delicious. When he told her she smelled like a cookie just out of the oven, she had leaned in extra close and smiled at him, her green eyes dancing. "Thanks to you." she whispered.

Daryl cleared his throat. "I told you before. I'm not gonna rush you. When you're ready, you'll come to me," he said, lifting her hand gently and kissing her palm. He looked at her with a sudden wicked gleam in his eye. "And" he paused, "you're gonna beg me." His words hung in the still of the room, the only sound the sputtering candle on the table.

She tried to swallow, but her mouth was suddenly dry. "Daryl, did you give anybody else any chocolate?" She desperatedly wanted to change the subject.

He signed deeply. "Yeah, after dinner, I slipped Rick the rest of the box I found and made him promise that everybody would leave us the hell alone. They're probably in the kitchen eating it all up right now." She was touched that he had thought to share the treasure, even if his motives weren't totally altruistic. Their absence would be conspicuous and there would be comments, especially from Shane.

After a very pregnant pause, she gave in and broke the defening silence. "So what's it gonna cost me then?" she said weakly.

Daryl sat back down on his heels, dropping his hands to his lap.

"Sit." he said flatly.

"No. Tell me first, so I can run if I need to" she said, only half-jokingly.

Daryl remained silent, never moving his eyes from hers. He gestured for her to sit.

"All right." She shook her head and sat down, crossing her legs in front of her, pulling on the hem of her jean-shorts. There were a few scars still visible on her thighs and she was self-conscious.

She was closer than ever and all Daryl could think about was the scent of the lotion she'd used-heavy and sweet, sugar and vanilla-what he'd found for her. His imagination lept to an image of her, still damp from the shower, slowly rubbing the creamy white lotion on her legs, arms, shoulders, her skin pale and smooth.

"Daryl." He blinked away with a sheepish look. "What do I have to do?" she asked, brushing a wayward strand across her forehead before it fell into her eyes.

"Nothin'."

"Seriously. What?" A slight impatient tone building.

"You don't have to do anything. I'm. I…" he hesitated uncharacteristically. Maybe this was not such a good idea. Daryl Dixon was not used to being flustered, especally around women. He'd had his share, sure, but none made him feel like she did. None of them had ever made him feel, well, loved.

"WHAT? You WHAT? Am I naked? Are you naked? What are you up to?" The volume and pitch in her voice raised and she gestured wildly with her hands. A good part of her really didn't want to know what he was going to say next.

"I get to feed it to you." he said. "That's all. Nobody's naked. No foolin' around. I just wanna watch you…eat it."

She looked up at him through raised eyebrows. She could feel the heat rising from her chest, her breath becoming heavier, her face flushing again. She put a hand over her heart, hoping that it would muffle the sound of it beating wildly. "That's all?" she tried to cover her nervousness. "Piece of cake." Her voice cracked on the last word. She was a horrible liar.

"Not cake. Hershey Bar." Daryl grinned and picked up the chocolate bar from the blanket. He scooted up closer, his now-crossed legs folded under him, his knees touching hers, her bare skin against the soft worn fabric of his faded green army fatigues. He dwarfed her-he was a full foot taller and at least 50 pounds heavier. She looked him in the glow of the candlelight. The shadows made his features sharper, highlighting his jaw line, strong nose, square shoulders. His shirt was not his usual plaid button-down with the sleeves cut off. Tonight he was wearing a black t-shirt. It was close-fitting and she could see every ripple and curve of his chest and stomach muscles. The sleeves were short, exposing his heavily muscled arms. He was thinner than he should be, which gave even more definition to his frame. He was incredible to look at.

Daryl slid off the outer brown wrapper, methodically unfolding the silver inner lining to expose the chocolate. He carefully broke off a single square from the end and held it up to her, leaning in close enough she could feel his breath as he said "Sit on your hands so you can't touch me."

"'Fraid I'm gonna snatch it and not share?" she laughed.

"No," he said without emotion. "I know you won't. I'd turn you over my knee and spank your bare ass." The coolness of his voice told her he was done playing. She tucked her hands under her knees and looked up at him, wide-eyed, his sudden intensity almost frightening her.

"There." she said, blinking several times. "Ready now?"

"No." he said quietly. "Close your eyes." he whispered.

"Daryl, stop. Please? You're not going to do anything…you're not going to make me..." her voice trailed off, too embarrassed to say the words she was thinking. "Why do you want me to close my eyes?"

"Nothing. " He said softly. "I'm not gonna do anything but watch you eat this here candy bar. God's honest promise." he said, raising his right hand. "I know what you think I'm gonna' do and I wouldn't do THAT." He paused briefly. "Lessn' you want me to…now that's diff'rent." He was grinning now like the Cheshire cat as his blue eyes twinkled.

"Swear?"

"I swear." he said quietly. He started to swear on his brother's life, but remembering that he didn't know if Merle was alive, dead or worse, thought better of it. He sure didn't want to think about it right now. Not now. Not when she was so close he could feel the heat radiating from her, making the sugar and vanilla smell now even more irresistible to him. Cookies, he thought again. He inhaled deeply. Sugar cookies, no less. He wanted to devour her just from the scent alone.

"Alright" she said. She sat up straight and closed her eyes slowly. The corner of her mouth twitched slightly and she inhaled deeply and let out the breath. "Alright."

Daryl slowly moved the square under her small, freckled nose and said "Breathe." She followed his direction and inhaled deeply, letting the smell of chocolate fill her lungs. Her head moved back and an almost imperceptible smile briefly crossed her face.

"Oh. Goodness." she said in a tiny voice. "Oh. My. Oh, that smells wonderful." Her mouth started to water again. "You're killing me here."

"Open." he said. She opened her mouth slightly. Darrl looked down into her face. Her soft perfect lips were slightly open, eyes closed, her dark lashes resting on her lower lids. The delicate features of her face, framed with the long, cascading curls reminded him of an angel. She was his angel.

He gently placed the single rectangle of chocolate between her lips, making sure it went inside but being careful not to touch her lips with his fingers. Not yet. Her mouth closed slowly and she pressed her lips together. "Mmmm." She chewed carefully, once, twice, now a third time, making sure her lips stayed together so as not to lose a bit of the precious chocolate. She stopped chewing and let the melting chocolate rest on her tongue. She chewed a few more times, obviously enjoying the taste, and swallowed slowly. "Darryl Dixon, you are a god. That was beyond description."

"That was only yer' first piece" he laughed.

"Yeah, but how long's it been? I'd almost forgotten what chocolate tastes like. Oh my God that was good! You HAVE to have some of this. Daryl, come on!" she exclaimed. "Can I open my eyes now?"

"Nope. Not until I say so. But you can open your mouth again…and hush up, Woman."

She pressed her eyelids together tighter and opened her mouth, again savoring the tiny rectangle of rich, chocolaty goodness that he gently placed between her lips. "Oh Damn." she whispered after she'd held out as long as she could before swallowing. Daryl didn't hear. He was totally engrossed in watching in the tiny movements her lips and chin made as she chewed slowly, the way her forehead furrowed slightly as she fought the urge to be quick and gobble the morsel, the way her neck muscles jumped as she swallowed. At this point, Daryl couldn't say who was enjoying the chocolate more.

"Nod if you're ready for another bite." he said, bending off third piece. The warmth of his hands was causing the chocolate to become soft. She nodded slowly and deliberately and as she did, she did something unconsciously that caused Daryl Dixon to nearly lose all control. Her lips curled inward slightly and her tongue appeared, licking her top lip from left to right and then back again across her bottom lip. Now not only were they perfect, they glistened in the candlelight. He could smell the deep, rich chocolate on her breath as she exhaled and opened her mouth slowly. Darryl took the piece of chocolate between his fingers and placed it on her still moist bottom lip, letting it rest there instead of slipping it inside. He moved it in the same direction as her tongue had moved-side to side, only slowly, leaving a trail of melted chocolate across her bottom lip. He then slid the barely-solid chocolate back to the other side and tenderly pushed what was left inside to her tongue. A faint bit of saliva, tinged brown with chocolate, escaped the side of her mouth. He could see her breath hitch and she closed her lips together tightly. She shifted a knee and raised her hand to wipe the corner of her mouth and he stopped her, catching her hand in mid air.

"Nuh-uh. No hands." he said, his hand still holding hers in mid air. She shuddered slightly. He kissed the back of her hand slowly and set it gently into her lap. She felt goosebumps rise slightly on her forearms. He leaned forward moving the hair from the front of her shoulder to her back and whispered into her ear "Had enough?"

"No." she said without hesitation. Daryl took a piece and put it between her lips and held it there for a second. She closed her lips but he didn't let go. Her brow furrowed. "Mmm-mmm." she protested, the bar between her lips. When he did let go, the chocolate had melted so that a bit from this finger slid slightly down past her lip. Without thinking, he curled his fingers on her jaw and slowly slid his thumb across her lip, swiping the brown smear away, only to leave his thumb resting on the middle of her bottom lip. She opened her mouth and kissed his thumb, pulling it into her mouth and closing her lips around it. Darryl's' next breath caught in his lungs and he could feel the blood pounding in his ears…and elsewhere. She ran her tongue over his thumb and pulled softly backwards as she let it slide out from between her lips. He closed his eyes and sucked in a breath quickly.

He tried to speak but his lips were dry and his mind was a blank. He opened his eyes and looked down at her face. God, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Her eyes were still closed. Her cheeks were flushed. This is what making love is going to be like with her.

She bit her bottom lip and swallowed roughly. "More" she said weakly.

Darryl broke off two pieces together this time and set the remainder beside him on the wrapper. She could feel him move even closer, she could feel the heat from his body and the fresh scent of the soap he'd used. She knew he was barely inches from her, feeling his breath when he exhaled. "Open" he said once more and once more she complied. Her lips parted. This time Darryl put one end of the piece between his own lips and brought the other end to hers. She knew something was different this time. Resistance. She knew instantly what he had done. She could feel his face so near, hear his jagged breathing.

She bit off a tiny piece, letting the chocolate slide between her lips and disappear. Then another tiny piece. The third piece brought her lips to his and she swallowed, without moving an inch. His hands were on her knees now and she moved hers up, finding his shoulders. His lips were warm against hers. She tasted wonderfully-sweet and rich, the chocolate still strong in her mouth. As they kissed, her lips opened more and his tongue moved slowly, deliberately. She moaned softly and opened her eyes, her head rolling back slightly as he kissed her again, this time more passionately, more urgently. His hands moved up to circle her waist. Her head dropped back further and her hair fell away, exposing her neck. His lips moved down, tenderly kissing a line up the muscle from her shoulder to just under her ear. He could feel her nails digging into his shoulders, her stomach muscles tightening as her breathing quickened. She moaned again softly. "Daryl-" her voice raspy. "Daryl. They were both on their knees now. She opened her eyes halfway as he drew away to look at her. His hands moved slowly upwards, now under her shirt, her silky skin hot to his touch. She felt a single bead of sweat roll down between her breasts and dissolve into the band of her bra. She reached her hands up, one to the back of his neck, the other to his hair and pulled his lips towards her own. "I'm begging you." she whispered.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 Awake**

I don't own any of the Walking Dead characters...but they sure are fun to play with- until I can get my Daryl Dixon action figure...

The pain in her side was excruciating, a relentless throbbing that had only one speed. Constant. Every breath she took in added a new wave to the throbbing, no matter how slow, how shallow, how gently she tried to inhale. Everything on her hurt- her knees ached, her head hurt, every fiber in every muscle felt like it had been stretched beyond it's limits and let go. Her bones ached, her throat was so sore it was difficult to swallow. The skin on her cheek felt tight, like an over-inflated balloon. The stabbing pain in her stomach was hunger, she recognized that much. She took a tiny breath and came to the realization that she was not in the cell anymore. That realization came in the form of a smell- or lack of one to be more exact. There was no smell of cigar wafting in the air. Lloyd was not around.

She heard muffled arguing and could make out a woman's voice and at least two men. They were talking low but she could make out most of the heated conversation.

"All I'm saying is that we need to be careful." a man's voice said. "We don't know who she is or what she is, she's probably infected ..."

"I can tell you what she's BEEN through, Shane, she's been tortured and beaten and I don't care who she is, we've got to help her." A woman's voice.

"Lori, be serious, she's been bitten. You said she had bite marks on her. You know what's going to happen. We need to take care of this now before she wakes up..." the first man stopped in the middle of his sentence

"You fuckin' go near her and I'll kill ya myself, asshole. Swear, I'll put a bullet in ya' n' feed ya' to the walkers." A second man's voice growled menacingly.

Another man's voice spoke louder, over the others. "Now calm down everybody and let's have a rational discussion about this. Shane... Daryl... enough. Nobody's going to take care of anything. Let's let Andrea get her cleaned up and assess the situation and then we can go from there."

She took another small breath and made a squeaking sound in the back of her throat from the pain. Through her closed eyes she could see light and she could hear a bird singing off in the distance. She could hear water being poured and someone near her. Their presence was comforting. "Hey, are you still with us?" the female voice asked softly. "You're ok. You're safe. We're going to get you all patched up and you'll be fine. You're going to be just fine." A cool sensation swiped over her forehead and down the side of her face. The movement was gentle and slow, soothing. "You just relax and rest and when I get you cleaned up and these cuts fixed, I'll get you something to eat."

For the next few minutes, the voice continued to speak, soft and low, reassuring her as she lolled in and out of consciousness. "I'm going to step outside the tent now for more water," it said, "you'll be safe, I'll be right back and we'll wash up your legs and your feet..." She heard a long, loud zip and the quiet woman's voice spoke to someone outside.

"I need more clean water. She's in bad shape- I know those ribs are cracked and she's in so much pain she's in and out. She's not saying anything and she's not opening her eyes but she's not fighting me to get her cleaned up so I think somewhere in there she realizes she's safe."

"I wanna see her." the angry man's voice said.

"Daryl, I don't think that's a good idea. I've still got a lot of cleaning up to do and I've got her out of most of her clothes. You need to wait. Let me finish up and you can go in and see if she's awake and can eat or drink something."

"Motherfuckers." the man's voice was pinched and low. "I find them they're dead." he snarled.

"Daryl, you don't even know her. You don't have a dog in this fight."

"Don' matter. You don' do that ta a' woman. No woman deserves that." he said softly.

Andrea finished putting on baggy shorts carefully on the girl and stood up to look at her work. Much better, she thought to herself. She had spent the better part of the afternoon washing, bandaging, and dressing the woman on the folding cot. She stood to dump the last of the wash water out of the tin basin she'd been using. Unzipping the tent with one hand, she stepped out and directly in front of a pacing Daryl Dixon. He had barely moved from in front of the tent the whole time Andrea was inside . She looked towards the campfire that Lori and Rick were sitting next to. The light was starting to fade. "Here. Dump this" she said firmly, half shoving the basin of water towards him, it's contents sloshing slightly.

"Do it yerself. I wanna see her. Now." He sidestepped Andrea and moved quickly into the tent.

Daryl stared down at the figure on the cot, a thin blanket covering pulled over her legs. Andrea had washed the dried blood and dirt from her and attempted to wash her long, dark hair. Her face was swollen, she had a massive black eye, her neck was bruised and purple, all up and down her arms were bruises and cuts, scrapes and abrasions. He sat down next to the cot and half-leaning, half-hugging the crossbow and with the exception of 6 hours of patrol every night, he didn't move for four days, not even to hunt.

She awoke with a jolt. One of those falling down a hole dreams where you're about to hit the bottom and it instantly you're wide awake. She opened her eyes. It was light out, morning, she guessed. It was raining gently and she could hear soft drops hitting the sides of the tent. She turned her head slowly and saw a figure sitting beside her. It was a man. The same man who had unlocked the cell. Crossbow. He was looking her with a huge smile on his rugged face. He needed a shave- the goatee and mustache were only slightly more dense that the stubble on the rest of his cheeks and jaw. His hair was disheveled and his clothes were wrinkled and awry. He looked, as grandma would say, "like he'd been rode hard and put away wet." but never had any man looked so good to her in her entire life.

He leaned closer towards the cot and stroked her forehead with his rough fingers. "Hey," he said softly, "you got green eyes. I wuz' wond'drin'."

She looked straight into his blue eyes and tried to smile. Her face was numb; she couldn't tell if she was smiling a little or a lot, or if at all. She wanted to speak but she knew nothing was going to come out. She wanted to say thank-you. A single tear rolled down her cheek and she closed her eyes as she realized she was safe.


End file.
